


Sometimes "Cannibal Hillbillies" Is the Right Thing to Say

by Lyrstzha



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Banter, Camping, Established Relationship, Flash Fic, M/M, Snark, john doesn't ask for anything, no cannibal hillbillies, rodney trying to be a good boyfriend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-25
Updated: 2013-11-25
Packaged: 2018-01-02 14:58:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1058151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyrstzha/pseuds/Lyrstzha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Still, even after years together, John so rarely asks outright, so rarely allows himself to be so openly vulnerable. Rodney flails a little on the inside, desperately afraid that he'll say or do the wrong thing – <i>as usual</i>, a small voice in the back of mind snipes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes "Cannibal Hillbillies" Is the Right Thing to Say

**Author's Note:**

  * For [panisdead](https://archiveofourown.org/users/panisdead/gifts).



John ambled casually up to the fire and dropped down to sit beside Rodney on one of the remarkably knobby and scratchy logs they'd lined the firepit with. Honestly, why did all the trees on this planet have to evolve such uncomfortable bark? Rodney ignored him in favor of the tablet in his lap, on which the finale of season 2 of _Babylon 5_ was playing.

“Getting pretty late,” John remarked, not looking at Rodney either. Not that Rodney was checking out of the corner of his eye. “The tent's all set up and everything.”

“Hmmph,” Rodney grunted noncommittally, but he paused the playback on his tablet.

“You know, we really don't need to keep a watch. Not here.”

“Hah,” Rodney snorted. “That's what they want you to think.”

John huffed a soft chuckle at that, which was typical, really. John never took danger seriously enough, in Rodney's opinion. “And who are these 'they,' exactly?”

Rodney threw up one hand, unable to flail with both while he was holding his tablet. It wasn't as satisfying. “Anyone! Random crazed psychopaths, angry bears, cannibal hillbillies, rabid raccoons... How should _I_ know?”

John was openly laughing now, the bastard. “ _Cannibal hillbillies?_ ” he gasped between laughs. “Seriously, Rodney?”

“I've seen _The Hills have Eyes_ ,” Rodney told him quellingly. “And I've read the Wikipedia entry on _Deliverance_.”

“This is a state park, Rodney. Even if there _were_ cannibal hillbillies – which there _aren't_ ,” he added quickly as Rodney opened his mouth to argue, “we wouldn't have to worry about them here.”

“Right.” Rodney rolled his eyes. “Like you're not the one who's always honestly surprised when some moon princess falling all over you turns out to be trying to lure us in to be sacrificed to appease the god of gum disease or something.”

John threw up his hands defensively. “That could have happened to anyone. Who knew there was a god of gum disease?”

“So not the point,” Rodney told him firmly, nudging John in the ribs with an elbow as long as he'd been foolish enough to leave his side unguarded. “You say safe state park campground, I say mosquito-ridden death trap full of things that want to eat us alive and maybe make hats out of our skins.”

John, perhaps in self-defense, put an arm around Rodney, making it much harder to elbow him effectively. “If you really didn't want to come, we didn't have to. We didn't have to spend our vacation days up here. We could have gone to visit Jeannie or something.”

Rodney twitched a shrug under John's hold. “You wanted to,” he said quietly, turning his head away to look off into the darkness where John was not. “And you don't ask for things, so,” he added, even more softly.

“Oh,” John said, equally quietly. “Oh.” He fell very still and silent for a moment, and finally Rodney turned back to see the look on his face. John looked a little startled and soft, like someone who'd braced himself for a pain that hadn't come. Rodney didn't really plan to lean into his warm side and put a possessive hand low on his belly, kneading faintly against the cloth of John's shirt like a lazy cat, but it happened anyway. The way that hand slid just a bit lower until John's breath rasped in his throat was maybe a little more intentional.

“Oh,” Rodney agreed with a nod, like that made sense. But at the moment nothing made much sense but John's mouth anyway, and Rodney suddenly couldn't look away from his lips in the firelight.

“If you want,” those lips said, slowly and only after the barest flash of tongue peeked out. “There are some other things I can think of to ask for. If you're finally ready to come to bed.” 

John's arm around Rodney tugged a little, coaxing, which was so utterly unnecessary that it was ridiculous. But still, even after years together, John so rarely asked outright, so rarely allowed himself to be so openly vulnerable. Rodney flailed a little on the inside, desperately afraid that he was going to say or do the wrong thing – _as usual_ , a small voice in the back of mind sniped – and make that faint shadow of nerves that still lurked in John's eyes shutter his astonishingly naked face with the studied nonchalance he so often hid behind. So when John stood up, Rodney came with him as readily as possible, wanting to be sure that every part of him was saying _yes_ unequivocally. Rodney carelessly dropped his tablet onto the pile of gear beside the log with a soft thump, not looking away from John.

“The cannibal hillbillies can eat the rabid raccoons,” he declared. “Let's go to bed.”

John laughed aloud, a happy sound that was warmer than the fire. His fingers curled against Rodney's palm, stroking slowly, scouring gun callouses across the sensitive skin there until Rodney shivered and could think of nothing but that he must have somehow said the right thing after all.


End file.
